Intersection
by Lady Azar de Tameran
Summary: Ficlet series. Sequel to Iniquity's Enigma. But sometimes, the universe exhales and takes a different route. And Bee is left dazed and dazzled, pondering what it all means. Onesided Bee/Sam.
1. Intersection

**_Intersection_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious.

**Warnings**: Implied Bee/Sam (if you squint)

**All characters are depicted as legal age in this chapter and subsequent ones.**

AN: Sequel to _In the Shadow of Forever_ and _Iniquity's Enigma_.

* * *

"What should we do?"

The question resounds in his processor, flashing through at light speed. They all look at him anxiously, expectantly, hoping that he'll have an answer for their impossible dilemma. However, Optimus is just as confused as them, just as uncertain. He knows that they have to do something; they cannot simply keep quiet on a subject of this magnitude. Moral implications aside, it is bad for unity, slowly dividing them as their subordinates start to sense that trouble is looming.

Already, Red Alert is deeply suspicious, but when isn't he? Yet, he is just the first. Some of the others are beginning to question, to put the pieces together. It is only a matter of time before they figure out the truth, and from there, one of them will assuredly tell Sam.

And then, what? Then, what shall they do? Perhaps the better question is what can they do? Go on as they are? Pretend that it never happened? Punish Bumblebee in some manner?

There are only questions. No answers. And as the silence stretches out, Optimus only becomes increasingly troubled.

How did it come to this? How did it come to this place, this point? Where, even now, they are forced to have Ironhide watch from a discreet distance, just to be certain?

Obsession, Optimus supposes, is a dangerous and frightening thing. And he wonders if _this_… if what Bumblebee feels borders on it. He loves Sam, dearly and truly, but love is also about compromises. About being willing to let go.

He is just so young, the youngest of their group, even counting all the newer arrivals. And Sam is the first real friend he has ever had. They, the other Autobots, filled the role of caretakers and superior officers in the war. Sam is an equal, someone he can easily relate to. Someone he does not need to sensor himself or put up a front around.

Sam is special. Singular to him.

The bond between them is as powerful as any he has ever seen, for all its relative newness. They are more than guardian and charge, but Optimus is hesitant to intrude. Hesitant on asking just how far it goes. It is really not his place, not any of their business.

But with the way things are--

"Sir?" Prowl prompts.

Optimus snaps back to himself, and he gazes at each of them in turn.

Prowl is stoic, but it is obvious that he is uneasy. They are venturing into dark and unknown territory. A place none of them ever thought to tread.

Jazz is subdued. He is deeply fond of both Sam and Bumblebee, probably the closest to either of them outside the other. He does not wish to see them hurt, but that seems inevitable.

Ratchet is... lost. He is lost, feels that this is his fault. That he should have realized sooner. His optics are a dull blue, normal shine long gone. And his voice is soft, tired. Defeated.

"What should we do, Prime?"

But Optimus doesn't have an answer.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	2. Interfusion

**_Interfusion_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie, Implied Character Death, Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: There's a poll for this story in my profile.

* * *

Death is a frightening thing. Incomprehensible. Unknowable. Permanent. It is a human constant, a universal constant really. Everything ever born or created will one day cease to exist, fade into nothingness. Humans live on a timer, life flying by in a whirlwind of color and sound.

It is a fact that Sam accepted, something that both did and did not bother him. A certainty that he had always known. That one day, inevitably, he would lose all the people he loved.

Miles was the first to go, though not in the way Sam had imagined. He simply couldn't take the truth about his best friend's Camaro or the universe in general, leaving Tranquility and Sam behind with a demand not to be contacted.

Ron Witwicky was next, a victim of bad genes and circumstance. Dead from a heart attack less than a year after the events of Mission City. And his wife might as well have died with him, now a virtual ghost of herself.

He supposes it was then that Bumblebee started to comprehend, that reality began to sink in. But it wasn't until Mikaela, wonderful Mikaela, that he completely understood how fragile his human charge was or just how little time they really had.

A car accident. That's it. That's all it took. She could survive juvenile detention and Decepticons and moronic government officials, but she couldn't live through that.

And Sam could practically feel Bee's horrified realization.

What came next was unexpected but not all that surprising. Sam knew immediately that his… _transformation_ was no accident, not a glitch of fate or random chance. But he kept his silence, unwilling to voice his fears out loud. Just as loyal in his own way as Bee.

And now…

It's tiresome. It hurts to watch the people he loves age and die while he remains exactly the same, unchangeable in his changed form. But he can deal with it. He has dealt with it. And his apparent immortality isn't the real point; that's not the problem.

Choice. He had no choice in the matter. Not really.

In a way, he did choose. He chose when he first sat in an old clunker of a Camaro. When he brought Bumblebee home and wanted him to stay even after the truth came out, even after Mission City. When the world was coming down around him and a yellow mech was all he could see in the chaos. When he shoved the Allspark into Megatron's chest, his mind filled only with thoughts of Bee.

However, what he chose, what he wanted, isn't what he ended up with. He can live with this… live with what has happened to him.

What he can't live with are the lies. The deceit and the trickery. If Bee had asked, he would have done it gladly, without hesitation or regret. But Bee didn't ask. He took and forced and twisted for his own ends. He used Sam's faith in him, his complete trust.

He loves Bee. Sam really and truly does, only not the way Bee loves him. He might some day. Maybe his feelings will shift, become what Bee wants between them. But that day isn't today.

There were and still are a million smiles and countless laughs, and there will be innumerable more. There are over a dozen new friends and more arriving all the time, more left than they ever imagined. There is chess with Prowl. Music and dancing with Jazz. Pranks and subsequent wrench throwing with the twins and Ratchet. Crazy inventions and explosions with Wheeljack. Optimus. Ironhide. Bluestreak. Blaster. All the others.

But under it all is a growing tension. A shadow that touches everything. A stain that can't be covered, glaringly obvious for all to see. A dark knowledge that lingers in every interaction. And it chills him in a way that nothing else ever has, not even when he stared death in the face.

Sam knows that he can live with forever. He just can't live with Bumblebee.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	3. Interaction

**_Interaction_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Implied Bee/Sam

AN: It occurs to me that I've had numerous POV changes, but that isn't really going to change. I'll slowly start to cycle back through everyone, occasionally bringing in someone new when the situation calls for it.

* * *

Knowledge is power, both deadly and beautiful, intoxicating. And completely dependent on how it's used.

Jazz is a firm believer. His knowledge, his skills have kept him alive for longer than human comprehension, helped him bring down countless Decepticons with only his own cunning as an ally. His understanding of other Cybertronians, of the nature of their kind and all their inner workings, is unparalleled. It's what makes him a good lieutenant. And an excellent spy.

As for Sam… well, he knows more than they ever realized. He knows everything. And that isn't an eventuality they had considered, much less the possibility that he would realize so long before the rest of them. It's not that Sam is stupid or inferior; he is simply young and not familiar with the universe at large.

But he already knows. This fact makes their job both exceedingly easier and infinitely more complex. Prime, in his great wisdom, wants his second lieutenant to sort out Sam, but Jazz is at a loss. He can't sing and dance or even fight his way out of this one. There's no cure-all to fix this, no button to press or switch to flip. And he would give just about anything for a time machine, to go back to right before he was revived and put the Allspark under lock and key, never to see the light of day again. Truthfully, he'd be willing to go back earlier than that and destroy the thing, even if it meant he stayed dead.

Slag. While he's at it, he might as well go all the way back to the day Megatron was created and pull the proverbial plug.

If wishes were high-grade, he'd be one very overcharged mech. Him and just about every other Autobot.

Yet, reality sets in, and he's left exactly where he started. Which is to say, at the aft-end of nowhere. No amount of regretful words or spark-to-sparks will make this any better. So he simply sits next to Sam, silent and waiting. A willing listener should his friend need it.

Knowledge is dangerous. But truth is even more so.

In the end, it is expected really, this distance that Sam craves. He needs room to process, to take a step back and collect himself. Bee isn't happy, not at all, but he's not exactly in a position to protest. Prime approves, and it's his word that decides the matter. Sam will go with Jazz and Prowl to help start up their new base. Bumblebee will remain behind, while Ratchet and Ironhide try to figure out what to do with him.

That's the way it is; that's the only way it can be.

But sitting there on the night before their departure, seeing Sam sink within himself, Jazz racks his processor for another option. Any other option. There's nothing, absolutely nothing. For once, his vast knowledge of other beings, of what makes them act and do and feel, of what makes them themselves… For once, it fails him utterly.

That failure is only compounded as Sam makes a noise beside him, a haunted and pained screech. Emotions overwhelming him, he trembles. There aren't any tears; he's not capable of it anymore. But that doesn't mean he can't cry, can't call out his grief to the unforgiving night sky.

And a part of Jazz fractures at the sound. Something thought unbreakable shatters.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	4. Interlude

_**Interlude**_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie, Onesided Bee/Sam

* * *

He dreams, only not in the way humans do. The images are far less random but still made of unvoiced desires or thoughts. Symbolism is mostly nonexistent. If he sees the medbay, then it simply means that he was there the previous day or that he needs to go there tomorrow. If he sees the sky, he was merely thinking of it before he went into recharge. 

Simple. Straightforward. Not like humans. Not like his precious Sam. Not like what he is experiencing now.

The world is drowning, everything caught in the flood. And the only thing left is uncertainty, a glance over the side into the abyss.

Where is Sam?

He can't find Sam anywhere. He searches and searches, optics and sensors at their highest. But Sam's not there. Gone. He's gone.

Bee is lost in a sea of nothingness. All around is empty, lifeless. Like his last memories of Cybertron. There is only death, only the slow decay of a once great place, left barren for all the ages.

There is no one. There is no Sam. Not here. Not anywhere.

He onlines with a jerk, hand transforming to a cannon without him realizing. His chassis trembles with the effort of calming down, of trying to burn it into his processor that it was only a dream.

But reality is the nightmare.

Optimus won't even look at him, disappointment so strong that Bumblebee glitches on it. Ironhide is frosty, silent, optics gleaming in a way Bee has never seen before and never hopes to see again. Ratchet is… Ratchet is frightening. He is just as surly as ever, but there's an edge of true anger to it, of legitimacy to his normally meaningless rants. A cold rage simmering just beneath the surface.

And Jazz? Prowl?

They are half a world away with his dear Sam. They won't be back any time soon, not for several of the human's months. Possibly even years.

They are all so furious. Don't they understand? Don't they realize?

Sam would have died, would have been lost like so many others. Now, he's safe. Relatively whole and intact. Not human… no, not that anymore. But still safe. Still alive. And he will stay that way.

But inside, Bumblebee aches. He hurts in a way that he had never thought possible, a pain throbbing and sharp. An acid touch along his sensory network. Relentless. All consuming. Worse even than being tortured by Megatron.

His only saving grace is that everyone else has no idea what's going on, no clue of what Bee has had done. They still talk to him, laugh with him, admit that he is more than a vicious 'Con deserving of termination.

But they will find out soon enough. Already, they puzzle over why Sam left while Bumblebee remained behind. Why the officers oscillate between supreme disgust and certainly that their youngest member will snap, simply waiting for his inevitable rampage. Wheeljack is too smart not to piece it all together. The twins too cunning to miss the undercurrent of mistrust and tension. Even Bluestreak is far more observant than he appears, face plates tightening as he takes it all in.

All Bumblebee can do is wait for the end, for his undoing. Teeter on the edge of the precipice, debating the final plunge, even as the ground crumbles beneath him.

And he just wonders how much longer it will take. Or if he'll survive the fall. Without Sam, he's not even certain that he wants to.

* * *

Ever Hopeful, 

_Azar_


	5. Internalize

**_Internalize_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie

AN: For some reason, this one was a pain in the aft to write. I went through multiple drafts, and it took forever.

* * *

The universe is change. Constant and never ceasing flux. Different from one astrosecond to the next. Always moving, swirling, whirling with possibility and potential. In the midst of everything, this world keeps going. Rests for no one. It does not pause as they stagger to collect themselves. As Sam tries to piece himself back together.

Decepticons still gain strength. Still plot. Still cause occasional mayhem. The death of Megatron has done little to change that, but there is an edge of hysteria to it now. Of an animal backed into a corner with no way out, knowing that it will die if it struggles but refusing to see reason, unable to stop itself from striking out.

Prowl supposes that the end is inevitable now. The Decepticons are in their death throws, and they all know it. They have been slowly falling apart with nothing but their hatred and bitterness to keep them going. It is only a matter of time, merely a waiting game. Certainly, it will take vorns, but the Autobots simply have to be patient as their enemies self-destruct.

In the meantime, life happens. Moves ever onward. They have a whole new world to discover, a new home to explore. New friends.

And that inevitably brings him to his current predicament.

In truth, Sam is shaping up to be a fine medic, flourishing first under Ratchet's tutelage and now with First Aid. But there is something about him. Something nameless and lingering that sets Prowl on edge. He is not afraid, far from it. Simply uneasy. Their newest member is kind, yes… and loyal. However, it is impossible to know his thoughts, to discern what he will do or say next.

Probably the reason Jazz and Bumblebee like him so very much. And why Prowl himself watches the youngling so closely.

Sam is just so difficult to fathom, so hard to understand. Humanity is confusing, illogical rationale and counterproductive actions. Intuition, instincts that make no sense at all but serve them so well. Sam is defined by such things, even if he is not a member of that species any longer. Yet, he fits in with the Autobots so well, has adapted and thrived.

It is irrational. Illogical. Completely unreasonable. It all makes Prowl's logic circuits tremble, ache to the point of freezing.

And those no-longer-eyes are so hard to read, a veritable blank slate. Prowl lives by calculating out odds and patterns, by seeing the connections. But Sam is like a void now. Information goes in; none comes out.

Prowl tries to think of what to do, how to deal with Sam now that the youngling is separated from his guardian, but he can't formulate an answer. He attempts to predict how this will all end, if the growing tension will ease on its own or if it will blow up in their collective faces.

There are so many choices, so many possibilities. So many questions. Each just as likely as the next.

What is Sam feeling? Thinking? What goes on behind those green not-eyes? Does he hate Bumblebee? Will Sam forgive him? Will things ever just be alright?

In all honesty, Prowl dreads finding out.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	6. Intercept

**_Intercept_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: There is finally some plot progression. Sort of. (Sigh)

* * *

Horror. Absolute, unabated horror. There isn't a proper way to express it. No words for the utter and complete chill that spreads from his sensory network to his extremities, colder than space and twice as deadly. The last time he'd felt remotely this bad was when Blue was all but deactivated by Starscream, taking the hit meant for Sunny. He'd sat on his berth for joors afterwards, just staring at the wall. Relieved for his brother's safety and infinitely guilty for it, terrified that his friend might die.

But even then doesn't really compare to now. This is different, a less muted form of misery. A deep-seated sense of shock, panicked realization as all the puzzle pieces slide into place, revealing the truth in all its Technicolor splendor, complete with soundbites and subtitles for the confused viewer.

Bee had…

Sideswipe didn't even want to think about it. If he could, he'd wipe the very memory from his processor, pretend that he'd never eavesdropped on Ratchet and Hide in the medbay. It wasn't his fault that he had been awake, unable to recharge after their recent battle, even with his injuries.

But he can't take back the argument he overheard, can't make it go away. And he can't _not_ tell his twin about it. That's too much to ask, too big of a secret to keep to himself. The shouted words, the guilty recriminations, the entire slaggin' thing bounces around inside him like an overcharged Frenzy. Ballistic. Uncontrollable. Wrecking havoc on each and every thought and action.

Sunny's horror is a reflection of his own, arrogant mask slipping entirely as the truth sinks in. His optics are a pale blue, nearly white with shock and a hint of fear, digits trembling before he curls them into fists. He might be a cold and self-centered slagger, but even this is beyond him. It's one thing to mistreat someone like Cliffjumper, glitch that he is. That fraggin' mech is an adult. Old and strong enough to take it, to fight back if he dares.

This… this is different.

Sam's just a youngling. Young and confused and still trying to find his place. Primus, he's practically still a sparkling, not old enough to be away from his creator or out of the Youth Sectors, not even a vorn old! He's so… _so slagging young!_ Too young.

Bee should know better than this. Should _be_ better than this, better than an outright liar and fraud. Better than a 'Con. He's not normally the type to do something so selfish, so heinous. So unforgivable. To hurt a youngling, to use him in such a way for his own ends.

But Sides isn't an idiot. He can see the way Bee looks at Sam, like he's the greatest thing since the Allspark. Feel the bond resounding between them. Even Slingshot has noticed, and he's got all the psychic sensitivity of a toaster.

It doesn't take Percy or Wheeljack to figure out what's going on.

Their little buzzing Bee is in love. Deep, irrevocable, all-consuming love. And a not-so-small part of Sides is frightened by it, afraid of the strength of Bee's devotion and lengths he seems willing to go. Terrified of what the yellow mech will do when he realizes that Sam doesn't feel the same and probably never will.

It's going to be bad; he can feel it in his very spark and knows that Sunny does, too. Horrible beyond words and imagination. Not a matter of if but when. The youngling caught right in the middle, the epicenter of the blast.

He only wonders if poor Sam will survive.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	7. Interference

**_Interference_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie

AN: Primus, some actual plot progression. I sometimes shock myself.

* * *

Ironhide isn't the smartest mech in their group, and he knows it. It's a simple truth, a fact of the universe in general and nothing more. He doesn't have the processing capacity of Wheeljack. Or Ratchet's memory storage. Or the logic capabilities of Prowl. Or even Jazz's intuitive understanding.

He's a warrior sparked. It's what he was designed for, what he was always meant to do. His true purpose. Hide knows exactly where his skills lie.

But that doesn't make him an idiot. He can read between the lines, as Will says. See the slag about to come down on their heads. Prime might like to live in a fantasy land where everything works out between Bumblebee and Sam and they ride off into the glorious sunset, sparkmates or bonded brothers or something. Ironhide, however, is a realist at his very core. He expects the body parts to start flying any breem.

And Ratchet might not have realized, but Hide knows that Sideswipe had to have overheard them. He'd have to be one deaf fragger not to with the way their chief medic was shouting. Undoubtedly, he's already told his twin. And it's only a matter of time before everyone else finds out. Red's been asking some mighty pointed questions lately, and Smokescreen and Mirage have been hanging around Bee more than usual.

So when Keller asks for someone to train their newest recruits, Ironhide agrees so fast that the human doesn't even have a chance to finish his request. It goes without saying that Bee's also coming. Bluestreak is their third, mostly because the gunner is the least like to go 'Con on them if something goes wrong. Well, that and because he'll fill any of those pesky and awkward silences that are likely to turn up.

The twins ask to go with them. But thankfully, Prime himself vetoes that idea. Ironhide makes sure to leave before anyone else can volunteer. Especially since Silverbolt and his brothers seem vaguely interested in tagging along.

It takes Ironhide less than a joor to realize just how bad an idea this might have been. The trip itself is uneventful, if filled with Blue's surprisingly pleasant chatter. But once they get there, Bee has somehow reverted to a sullen and spoiled sparkling, acting more like Sunstreaker at his worst than his normally amicable self. Poor Bluestreak, in turn, is confused more than anything, not quite understanding what's going on and beside himself with worry. The humans are panicky and nervous, never having met a Cybertronian before. Most of them are convinced that they're about to get squished or shot at or maybe just run over.

And Hide finds himself wishing for a Decepticon attack. Almost fantasizing about Starscream's screechy taunts and Soundwave's monotonous voice. He just needs something, _anything_ that he can take his frustrations out on. But no matter how disappointed Prime currently is, he'd mount Ironhide's aft on the wall if he so much as looks at Bee wrong.

Little fragger always was the favorite, current situation notwithstanding.

What Ironhide wouldn't give for Hound or Trailbreaker or even Will to be here, for someone reasonably calm and rational. For a single hint of sanity. But those two glitches are with Prowl at the other base. Will is with his sparkmate and offspring on some sort of trip that involves reuniting with large parts of his bonded's kin, despite the fact that he doesn't even like them.

Primus, he'd even take Cliffjumper because at least then he could shoot the fragger and make it look like an accident. They might even believe him if he said his cannon inadvertently went off of its own accord. Such things have happened before. Ratchet especially would know.

Still, he supposes that this is better than the alternative. Better a surly and intact Bumblebee than one in pieces. Just give it a few orns, and they'll be back at the base. Something that he repeatedly reminds himself with every scowl, complaint, and newly terrified human.

Of course, that's only if Ironhide doesn't shoot the little glitch first.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	8. Intermezzo

**_Intermezzo_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie

AN: Some more plot progression. Who knew?

* * *

Regardless of place or time, some things in this universe are constant. Decepticons attack indiscriminately. The twins pull crazy stunts. And Wheeljack's inventions inevitably explode.

The fact that this particular explosion destroyed both the walls and ceiling of his lab but didn't manage to damage Jack at all is completely irrelevant. Further evidence that Primus favors sparklings, morons, and engineers.

Optimus, of course, does not see the humor in the situation, not the least bit amused. Prowl is even less so when he realizes that he gets to be babysitter while everything is rebuilt. And Ratchet… Ratchet is just along for the ride. There to ensure a relatively whole and intact Jack arrives at the other base.

Wheeljack is excited. Giddy. Enthused. Head fins flashing like a strobe light and optics gleaming. Taking to the idea of a visit like Red Alert to the new security protocol or Ironhide to a plasma cannon.

Ratchet is not. He grumps and snarks and groans. Throws more tools in the joors just before they depart than the last few orns combined. Not even Mirage's wiles are enough to temper his ire. And he is an altogether awful traveling companion, caustic and ill-tempered. But Jack is not fooled in the slightest, has known the grouchy medic far too long to be fooled by his rants. He knows the real reason Ratchet is here.

To check up on Sam. To confirm for himself what Jazz and Prowl have told him. That the youngling is still alive, still with them. Sad. Sparkbroken even. Perhaps somewhat angry. But still here, nonetheless.

Cybertronians are a tough race, sturdy and near immortal, but their young have always been fragile. And a betrayal like Sam experienced has been known to kill before, known to make sparklings simply give up and shut down. That isn't even counting all the other hardships the youngling has gone through since their arrival, losing both creators and his beloved companion. And of course all the other slag: the Allspark battle, the human government, the _incident_ with Soundwave.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Ratchet is worried; they all are. Sam is precious to them. And not just because he is the last youngling. He is singular, unique. A brightness in such turbulent and seemingly everlasting times. Warm and sweet and utterly fascinating despite the awkwardness.

He is special.

They arrive at the base just after midday, met by a cheerful Jazz. Wheeljack greets him amicably, while Ratchet just grunts. The medic is tense beside him, entire body stiff as he fights not to shove the lieutenant out of the way and hurry off to the medbay. Jazz thankfully doesn't take offense, simply escorting them there, Ratchet too preoccupied to even notice him leave.

Sam is inside, repairing an injured mech under First Aid's watchful optics. Jack vaguely recognizes the bot being worked on, but a single glance at Ratchet confirms that his friend seems to know him. Yet, that matter slips from their processors as they quietly watch Sam.

His head is bent as he works, seemingly oblivious to anything save the mech in front of him and the one standing just behind. Though his hands are not as small as they once were, they still easily fit into gaps, adjusting parts and circuits with a quiet confidence. But he steps back a few breems later, and First Aid just gives a pleased nod as he makes his inspection.

Sam pats his patient gently as he closes the final panel, and the red and yellow mech says something in response that Wheeljack misses. He does, however, see the youngling pause and turn. Sam is quiet for a moment, simply staring. The silence stretches, and then, Jack can see it, barely there yet still visible.

Sam's lips twitch upwards in a small but noticeable smile.

And beside him, Ratchet finally relaxes.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	9. Interdict

**_Interdict_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Some OOC on Bee's part

AN: I took a little break, but I'm back now. Also, a bit more plot progression.

* * *

Humans are interesting. So different. But so very much like them. Small and fragile and delicate like the smallest of sparklings. But so smart and capable. Brave despite it all.

Or at least, they are most of the time. Not now. Not with the current situation… disaster more like. Not with their first experience with his kind. And most certainly not with Bee here.

Simply put, they're terrified.

Bluestreak doesn't like this feeling, hates the fact that these remarkable beings are so frightened of them. He feels dirty somehow, tainted by association. Like he did after his home was destroyed. The humans look at them like they're no better than 'Cons. Like there isn't even a difference.

Bee doesn't even care. He just growls at them, sends them running any time they so much as look in his direction. Makes rude and threatening gestures. Won't speak to them. He just does whatever the slag he wants. Ignores Hide's orders. Pretends Blue himself doesn't even exist.

Primus, Sunstreaker at his most homicidal is friendlier than this.

And Blue doesn't understand; he just can't understand what's going on, why Bee's being this way. Hopes that it is in no way related to what Sam confided to him those orns ago before he left for the new base. A dirty secret Blue is trying his best to forget.

But at least, Ironhide's shouts are in Cybertronian and over the comm channels, not out loud. Blue's not even the one yelled at, but his processor practically rings afterward, reverberating with the angry words and almost but not quite threats. He's never seen Hide so angry, not even when Ravage and Rumble got hold of Sam and brought him to Soundwave.

Things are just so crazy. So absolutely insane. The universe got turned around, and nobody bothered to tell him. No one ever remembers to tell him.

He just wishes Jazz were here. Or Prowl. Or even the twins. Optimus. Ratchet. Anyone else. They'd all know what to do. They'd think of some solution, something clever or witty. Not just watch completely frozen at the scene unfolding before him, stare with something a lot like horror as Hide is forced to tackle Bee and then bodily drag him away from the human's commander.

They wouldn't be so altogether useless.

It's no surprise when reinforcements show up. Nor is it shocking how the humans react. Mirage and Smokescreen have their hands full trying their best to calm everyone down, practically begging the base commander to give them another chance. Hide and Red Alert aren't much help, too busy keeping Bee from doing something else.

Blue just tries to stay out of the way.

The humans want Bee gone, so he's being sent back. Actually being escorted there by Hide and Red Alert. Blue's never had that happen to him before, never been removed from a mission. And he honestly can't remember something like this ever happening to anyone else he knows. He's never been so distrusted that they forcibly turn off his weapons. Not even when he was a raw recruit and so incredibly nervous the first time he held a weapon that he almost shot his own foot off.

They leave less than a joor later. And no one is sad to see the Camaro go.

Blue just watches as the three drive off, Bee securely in the middle. Smokescreen puts a comforting hand on his arm, and Mirage tries to speak to him. But he barely even notices, still too shocked by what's happened. Too baffled. So very, very hurt and confused. And just a little bit dreading.

And for once in his life, even Bluestreak is silent.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	10. Internment

_**Internment**_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam, Some OOC on Bumblebee's part

AN: Okay. So I lied about the break. I'll be updating intermittently for the next few weeks since I have exams and then graduation.

* * *

It has come to this. To something he had so desperately wanted to avoid. To a sparkbreaking reality and an untenable road ahead. To impossible decisions, choices. Repercussions.

And he had hoped, wished… prayed that everything would work out on its own. That things would settle. That Bumblebee would calm, go back to his usual cheerful self. That Sam would forgive and return of his own volition. That they would be happy again. That they could all be happy again, not this tense conglomeration of individuals where there was once unity.

Yet, that is a fool's hope, a wistful and unreachable dream, growing more distant with each passing breem. And Optimus thinks that this must be what Alpha Trion felt as he watched one of his creations turn on the other.

Bumblebee in the brig. Not an unusual thing in and of itself, given his penchant for helping the twins with their mischief, as well as getting into quite a bit of his own. However, never before has Optimus confined him there for gross insubordination and violence. Never before has Ironhide been so angry that he was at a loss for words. Never has Red Alert been forced to physically carry anyone to the brig, the rest of the crew gawking witnesses to the spectacle.

Never has he seen Bumblebee go from wildly thrashing to completely catatonic.

And Optimus' thoughts are compelled down a path he is hesitant to tread. He considers the possibility that Bee might _need_ Sam here. That the bond they could all see so clearly has twisted in on itself, Bumblebee taking the full brunt. At the same time, Sam needs to be away, to have a chance to adjust and grow into his new life. Needs the opportunity to recover and heal.

Optimus can't satisfy them both. One will have to concede, and as things are, it seems that Bumblebee either will not or _cannot_. However, Sam has the right to decide for himself, can't be forced into this.

Bumblebee or Sam. Sam or Bumblebee. Both young, so very young. Too young to be involved in such a debacle. There is a very good reason why younglings are so discouraged from forming bonds, but this is the first time that Optimus has had to bear witness to the fallout. He has only heard whispers before, nervous murmurings on risks and hazards, on all manner of potential consequences. Some too horrible and terrifying to even consider.

Twins and gestalts are one thing. This is entirely another. A mockery of what could be. Of what _should_ be.

And it all comes down to him to decide. To choose the proper course of action.

Bumblebee. Sam.

Must they sacrifice one youngling for another?

Optimus wonders if perhaps they already have.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	11. Intercede

**_Intercede_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam, Some OOC

AN: More plot! Yay! Also, I'm trying to do regular updates again, but I have a few things going on this month. I'm not sure if I can manage it yet.

* * *

Sometimes, Ratchet thinks that the universe is out to get them. That Primus himself loves to mock them, taunt them with visions of peace and happiness. That he whispers of a bright future, one where the war is finally over and they can start to rebuild and be whole again. Only to cruelly twist everything, snatch their hope away in a single instant.

And that is the only explanation he can possibly come up with to explain _this_.

A bond. Well, they certainly all saw the connection between Bumblebee and Sam. But to have it erode. To bend past the breaking point and then invert, warp until it is unrecognizable.

There's no way any of them would have dreamed of this happening. Never even would have thought it possible. But then, none of them would've ever imagined their youngest using the Allspark fragment to strip Sam of his humanity either.

Prime has asked him what they can do. And the only thing Ratchet can think of is to send Bumblebee to Sam, to pray that Sam's presence alone will be enough to ease the strain.

However, Ratchet makes the suggestion already knowing it won't work. The odds are astronomical, but Prime grabs onto the chance like a starving mech desperate for energon. It's the only real option they have. The others are completely untenable, unacceptable to the extreme.

He won't have Bumblebee die when he can prevent it. Nor will he allow Sam to serve a lifelong sentence for something that isn't his fault. For that's what it all comes down to in the end. The youngling would bond to save his friend. Sacrifice his happiness, his future. Any chance with someone else.

Otherwise, Bumblebee would most likely die. And as horrible as it sounds, that's the eventuality Ratchet prefers if there is no sparking. If Sam doesn't complete the bond.

Better Bumblebee dead than a slow slide into madness.

He's seen this before. Only twice, both during his very early days as a medic; two times too many. One went quietly, all but catatonic at the end. As peaceful as possible given the circumstances. Silent but sparkbreaking.

And the other… Ratchet still has nightmares all these vorns later. Memories of crazed optics and self-mutilation. Flashes of what exactly the mech did to his intended sparkmate.

And that is all Ratchet can think of as he and Wheeljack race back to Nevada. As he comes to check Bumblebee's status himself, poor Perceptor way out of his depth with this one.

Slag it all, so is Ratchet.

He can scarcely contain himself. Barely prevent his limbs from shaking as he checks over the yellow mech, both Ironhide and Red Alert fingering their weapons in the background. Just in case. But Bumblebee is too far gone. He doesn't even move. The only sounds he makes are the rush of air in his intakes and the whispers of a single word. A name.

Sam. He asks for Sam.

Ratchet's had bots beg him before. But this… this is definitely a first.

And once again, Ratchet is thankful that he is not their Prime. That he doesn't have to make this decision. That he doesn't have to pick one youngling over the other. Even if they have no other option. No other choice.

Ratchet only hopes that it is the right one.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	12. Interrogate

**_Interrogate_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: OOC perhaps

* * *

Despite popular opinion and Prowl's occasional assertions, Jazz does not have a smart answer for everything. He comes rather close, if he does say so himself. But there are still some things that take even him by surprise. Times where he is too confounded to form an appropriate response. When even his processor strains to keep up.

This happens to be one such occasion.

There is no smooth reply. No witty remark. No quick retort. The universe has tilted on its axis lately, and he's still trying to find some sense of equilibrium. He just stops and stares. Gapes at Sam like he has suddenly painted a Decepticon symbol on himself and started singing Starscream's praises. As impossible as that sounds.

"I'm not an idiot, Jazz."

Sam isn't quite optic-level, but he's close enough to make Jazz uncomfortable as he strains to come up with an answer. His friend tilts his head up slightly, completing the effect. Jazz does his best to redirect, to brush the comment off. However, Sam isn't fooled for an astrosecond. Green optics with depths unfathomable gaze at him. Study him. Seem to search his very spark and find him lacking.

And not for the first time, Jazz wondered why Primus seems to hate him so very much, especially the last dozen orns or so. Or perhaps all those vorns of mischief and mayhem are coming back to bite him in the aft. And he silently apologizes for all the trouble he's put Prowl, Prime, and Ratchet through.

But surely, even they aren't so cruel to exact this kind of vengeance. To leave him to Sam's questionable mercies. Especially if… _when_ the youngling learns about Bee and the bond.

Jazz has no doubt that he will. It doesn't take Perceptor to figure out that Bee suddenly appearing at the new base without warning is indicative of something, particularly when no one has seen him since his arrival. And especially because Prime was so against him coming a few orns earlier. It's only a matter of time before Sam uses that infamous medic ability to uncover the truth of the situation, to obtain a confession for their most heinous deeds.

The twins swear that Ratchet must have taught him that. Jazz is inclined to agree. He just wishes that he didn't have to fall victim to it.

The lieutenant, sensing that defeat is imminent, glances at his companion before turning to look around the common room. A part of him both dreads and prays to find someone else there, hoping that an audience would distract Sam. Keep him from prying. And right now, Jazz would take just about anyone. Cliffjumper. Hound. Blaster.

But no such luck. The room is completely empty save the two of them. Just captive and interrogator.

And his life is surely in jeopardy if he does anything to upset the youngling. He'd take trigger-happy Ironhide any day over what Prowl would do to him. Much less the others.

He just doesn't know what to say. What to do. How to explain this mess. He can only look at Sam helplessly.

"What's going on, Jazz?"

The former human says it firmly, voice clear if quiet. There is no trace of his usual awkwardness. He just looks at his friend expectantly, awaiting a response.

Sam wants answers.

But Jazz has none to give. None he _can_ give.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	13. Interim

**_Interim_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie, Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: I'm back. And my cruise was wonderful! Tada!

* * *

It hurts. Pain, agony like he's never felt before. Worse than losing his legs in Mission City. Worse than Tyger Pax and being tortured. Worse than those sparkwrenching days Sam was missing, when Soundwave held him captive and Bee was so utterly helpless.

Yes, worse than even that.

He can't think. He can't focus. It just hurts too badly. Heat racing through his circuits. Processor colder than space. His spark stretching and pulling and bending and twisting. Reaching and reaching and never finding. All alone in the void. Empty but burning with need.

Pleading. Nearly begging. But they won't let him go to Sam. Make him go with Hide and Blue instead with nothing to ease his torment. Nothing at all to make it stop.

It's all too much. Far too much as time wears on. Bending and bending. On the edge and drawing even closer.

And finally, something inside him snaps. Then… blessed relief. Like slipping into recharge after a long and exhausting day. Or the first taste of energon after going without. Like being with Sam. Only not. Not nearly as soothing or comforting. Bee doesn't hurt, not exactly, but he aches inside. Pain covered and driven deep down, to his very core.

It is like he is underwater. Everything is muted, muffled. Ebbing and flowing around him in a confusing stream. Trees and roads and the desert float by like islands in the sea of nothingness. Glimmers of the corridors of their ship, a holding cell, and then the medbay.

Voices wash in and out. Ironhide and Red Alert, tired and wary. Optimus sounds odd, almost panicked, desperate. Perceptor is shaky and soft, a faint whisper over the rushing in his audios. The twins choked and full of emotion. And Ratchet… determined but so very sad.

Sam? Why can't he hear Sam? Why is his Sam not here?

He can't understand it, can't fathom why he can't sense Sam. Bee needs Sam, the cure for the ache that is slowly eating away at him. He is drowning, searching for his only lifeline. He reaches again but still can't find.

Bumblebee drifts. He doesn't know how long. Doesn't care. Only a few flashes of what is going on around him. Blue sky and clouds. The sensation of moving. Then trees, hundreds of them. More corridors but not the same ones as before.

Suddenly, there is a tingling in his circuits, a jolt of pure energy. The stretching of his spark dwindling. Ache easing to a dull throb. He can see around him more clearly, the waters receding. Torrent becoming a gentle trickle.

Sam. Sam is here. Bee can feel him. So close but so very far. Just within reach if he only dares to try.

He pulls nearer to the surface. But the closer he gets the more pain returns, slow and then stabbing. Agony once more. However, Bee doesn't stop; he knows that Sam is here. That Sam will help him, save him.

He goes higher and higher, everything around becoming crisp and clear. Up and up. Light brighter and brighter. Pain and more pain. Fire and ice and sizzling and twisting until he finally breaks the surface.

And then, Bee wakes up.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	14. Intersperse

**_Intersperse_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: Primus, work is such a pain in the aft. Slagging student loans that I have to pay back.

* * *

His fellow Autobots often ask him why he chose to be a medic, most especially a medic during wartime. First Aid can never answer. At least, not with complete honesty. He can cite his brothers, the urge to help others, a million similar reasons. Yet, none of these are quite right. Not the entire truth.

But sitting beside Bumblebee as he clings to life, Aid finally has his answer. He couldn't live with himself if he had chosen differently. If he saw suffering and turned away. If he did nothing.

And naturally, Aid would have this revelation when he is utterly helpless. Unable to do anything but sit and watch and hope. He stands silent vigil, joined by Ratchet, and Wheeljack lingers nearby. Prowl and Jazz when their duties permit.

But not Sam. Never Sam. The youngling is innocent of all this. He doesn't even know what is going on. Or at least, he shouldn't. It is not like Bee is in the medbay. Where he could be easily seen.

Then, just days after Bumblebee is brought in, the door opens to admit Sam followed by an extremely sheepish Jazz. Aid is surprised, but he shouldn't be. He watches rather dumbfounded as the youngling slowly walks over to Bee's prone form, face unreadable. Jazz, in turn, hovers near the doorway, and the look Ratchet gives him could send Unicron fleeing for his very life. Were it any other time, Aid is certain that tools would soon start flying.

However, they all remain silent. Simply watching as Sam stares at Bumblebee. He just looks and looks, astroseconds stretching into an eternity. The air is heavy around him, dull and throbbing. Tension so great that First Aid can feel it in his very core, but Sam doesn't seem to notice, attention focused on one thing only. The youngling places a small hand on slightly larger yellow one and bows his head. Time seems to stop, holding her breath as Sam curls his fingers and squeezes.

Of course, Bumblebee's optics choose that very instant to snap on.

Sam jumps back in surprise and crashes into the chair beside him. He makes an odd squeaking sound as Ratchet rushes over, First Aid hot on his heels. They run their tests, scanning and prodding and poking. Jazz has a hand on Sam's shoulder, supportive but ready to pull him back.

And Bee gazes up at the ceiling. Dazed. Confused. He twitches, groans. Whispers a single word. He moves his head, knowing automatically where to look, blue optics meeting green.

Bee looks at Sam. Sam looks at Bee. Everyone else looks at them. Back and forth. Youngling to mech. Bright yellow to the deepest black.

Sam trembles beneath Jazz's touch. He shifts from one foot to the other. With indecision. Uncertainty.

Bumblebee lifts a hand, reaching. Just managing to brush before Sam pulls away.

The youngling jolts like his been hit by a cannon blast. He shakes his head and steps backwards, connecting with Jazz's chassis. The older mech moves to steady him, but he scrambles loose, optics flickering to Bee one final time before darting away.

And with that, Sam turns and flees out the door.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	15. Interloper

**_Interloper_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: More plot progression. We are definitely in the latter half of this series, but I'm not certain how many more parts there will be.

* * *

Emotions are beyond him. Beyond his comprehension and understanding. Outside of his logic and precise rationality.

Of course, he feels. Everyone does. Anger. Annoyance. Sorrow. Pleasure. Tranquility. Contentment. All the emotions of a normal person. Prowl simply cannot fathom them. Cannot understand how or even why other beings would allow themselves to be ruled by such fickle and ever-changing and irrational things. Cannot comprehend Sam or his actions.

He finds the youngling outside, some distance from the base. Just staring out at the mountainous and tree-filled landscape. Prowl knows that he is most certainly not the best mech for this, but those he would normally send are indisposed at the moment. Bee for obvious reasons. Ratchet in a snit. Wheeljack trying to save Jazz from his friend's fury. And poor First Aid caught in the middle.

Prowl is the only one left. The only one who knows of the true complexities of their situation.

And he does his best to not be awkward as he moves to stand by Sam. A not-so-strange sensation of déjà vu overtakes him, and he silently remembers another such moment like this and the subsequent horror with Soundwave that followed.

But thankfully, there is no repeat of that as absolute quiet descends and lingers for longer than Prowl thought possible when concerning any youngling, even this one. That is probably why he is so surprised when Sam finally speaks.

"I love Bee. I really do. I… I just don't know what to do."

Sam again falls silent after his soft admission.

Prowl is not sure how to respond to that and belatedly wonders how much of the truth Jazz told him. If Sam knows about the bond. Or if the youngling thinks something else is the cause of Bumblebee's… _malady_.

Prowl struggles to come up with a response. Still struggling when he senses someone approach from behind. He tenses, poised to draw a weapon, and half-turns to catch a glimpse.

A mech, red with yellow highlights. A trailing and swirling design in a light gold twining across his paint. He is neither tall nor short, falling somewhere near to Prowl's own height. The wanderer Hound and Mirage had met and brought here. The communications specialist but without his usual pack of assistants.

Blaster.

The other mech nods in greeting, gaze fixed on Sam. And almost as if he knows his friend is present, the youngling finally looks up. Something unreadable flashes across his green optics. Some unknowable emotion that Prowl can't quite decipher.

The two study each other as Blaster walks the rest of the way over, but Sam glances away as he sits. Silence is heavy between them. Weighted but slowly easing.

Prowl, however, is only that much more discomfited. He feels like an intruder. As though he suddenly does not belong. He fights the urge to twitch, barely conquering it. And he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, unease rising with each passing astrosecond but not entirely certain why. It soon becomes unbearable, and he makes his excuses to leave.

He vaguely wonders if they even notice.

But he feels peculiar as he goes further and further away. Circuits and energon lines seemingly twisting inside with something altogether like dread. Prowl casts a glance back, just to be certain. Optics flickering to them for an instant.

They are sitting next to each. Innocent but close. Very close. Almost but not quite brushing in the starlight.

And inside him, Prowl's spark trembles.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	16. Intermingle

**_Intermingle_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Slight spoilers for the '07 movie, Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: Would anyone be interested in a fic about the incident with Soundwave I keep mentioning? It may or may not be set in this exact universe. An AU of my AU, if you will.

* * *

Put simply, space is large. Larger than large. Bigger than big. Huge. Vast. Stretching on forever. With so much distance between stars and planets and solar systems.

Large and lonely.

For longer than he likes to remember, Blaster has been alone. With only his own creations beside him. Separated from his fellow Autobots in the mad scramble to get off Cybertron. Unaided and drifting in space. Just him in the dark and the cold. But still soldiering on. Still valiantly and futilely searching for the Allspark. Even as hope diminished and was lost. Even as he ached and yearned but somehow kept going.

But in a veritable whirlwind of luck and chance, he heard Prime's message and desperately headed to Earth. Only to find two others entering the solar system at the same time. And then, to discover numerous other Autobots already on a planet filled with billons of people. Of humans.

Not alone. Not anymore.

And then, he met Sam. A youngling who had once been a native of this world. Who welcomed him with open arms and a charming if shy smile. Who even now still hides his hurt, open on the outside but with a deep pain beneath green optics.

Blaster never knew Sam as a human. As anything other than what he currently is. He only knows the youngling. The minibot the universe seems to both love and hate. The one all the others seem so bent on protecting and coddling. The future medic and Autobot.

Blaster doesn't know Bumblebee either. Has only truly talked to him twice since planetfall. Has the vaguest of ideas about his personality or even his person.

But as he sits with Sam under the stars… as he watches the youngling, his new friend, withdraw into himself, Blaster suddenly understands. Comprehends everything with a crystal-clear clarity. All the pieces of a half-finished puzzle slide together.

And he doesn't like the truth that is uncovered. Not at all. Or the fact that they've hidden this from Sam. The one who most deserves to know.

But now is not the time to tell him. Such knowledge would only hurt Sam more. He is already falling apart at the seams. A youngling who has experienced far too much in too short of a time. Too much for an entire lifetime.

And like the rest, Blaster keeps his silence. At least for the moment.

He doesn't say anything at all. He merely sits with Sam. And carries him back inside after the youngling slips into recharge. Down the hall. Beyond the room Bumblebee is in. Past Jazz and Wheeljack and Ratchet. All the way to the medbay.

He stays there for the rest of the night and into this planet's morning. And when Sam onlines, he isn't alone.

Blaster is the first thing he sees.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	17. Interwoven

**_Interwoven_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

* * *

Wheeljack is no stranger to the silent treatment. He has experienced it enough in his life. From Ratchet. Other scientists. His fellow Autobots. Usually, it's his own fault, something that he readily admits. Jack knows that he has a weakness for shiny inventions that tend to explode.

But it is rather odd to be an unwitting spectator, to watch as someone else gets the dark looks and flashing optics. The angry if quiet threats. Even more so when it happens to multiple bots. When everyone is furious with everyone else. With him for once not in the epicenter of the blast or the line of fire.

This should be a happy time. A cause for at least some celebration. Bumblebee is online and seems to have recovered some if not mostly. Enough so that he is no longer in danger of dying, though he is clearly not himself. The bond with Sam stronger than ever but not as twisted and dangerous.

Instead, Jack is just waiting for the punches and tools to start flying. The only reason Bee is still in one piece is because Ratchet has strapped him to his berth. It's like the universe is unraveling around them. Taunting them with a promise of peace and a new youngling and the potential for more to come.

If Sam didn't know the entire truth before this point, he certainly does now.

Wheeljack still isn't sure how the pit this happened. Perhaps First Aid let something slip to his brothers. Or maybe someone overheard Ratchet yelling at Jazz. Or they put it together on their own. All Jack knows is that he came out of his temporary quarters after Bee's recovery to find the base in an uproar. Every bot and mech talking about the bond. In the corridors. The rec room. Skyfire's labs. Even their human allies know. Epps and his men all but gaping as it was explained to them.

And now, everyone is mad at Bumblebee. Bee is mad at Ratchet. Ratchet mad at Jazz. Sam mad at them all for refusing to tell him earlier.

First Aid at his wit's end. Prowl awkward and irritated. Blaster and his symbiotes silent but supportive. Mirage appalled. Hound horrified. Jazz trying not to be beaten to death by a wrench.

Wheeljack… Wheeljack just watching as if it were a human tennis match. Or some horrendous crash. He wants to look away but can't help that he stares. So distracted that he hasn't blown anything up in a half-orn.

The base could fall down around their heads, and Jack doubts that anyone but Prowl would notice. Primus, all they need now is a Decepticon attack. Or another kidnapping by Soundwave. That is the only way things could be any worse, especially with the _unfortunate_ demise of Ravage.

Things are quickly coming to a breaking point. On the edge of something Jack isn't certain they can return from. A rift growing and fracturing. For too long they've lived with a war, with death and pain. Only to have the promise of peace and happiness seemingly snatched from them.

But it all centers on what the youngling does. This was not caused by him but still depends on his actions. On his reaction once his anger has had a chance to lessen. On what he and he alone decides to do. Just Sam.

And in the end, it always seems to be about Sam.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	18. Intervene

**_Intervene_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Hinted Past Violence, Onesided Bee/Sam

* * *

Sam wonders if the universe is out to get him. If he did something horrible in a past incarnation. If Primus is exacting vengeance for destroying the Allspark. Or if it is all just a strange series of coincidences. Wrong place, wrong time. Every time. All the time.

But that's only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Liars. The lot of them. His friends. Mechs who lied to his face whenever he asked about Bee.

He doesn't need or even like to be coddled. Sam is not a child. _Youngling_. He's an adult by human standards. Already was one before his current transformation. No matter what they think, they aren't his parents or creators. Don't need to protect him from the harsh truths of the universe. He's already gotten a face full of them.

Sam saw his father die, struggling for air until the very end. Watched his own mother's descent into depression and death. Seen people, humans and bots alike, blown apart. Torn in half or limb from limb. Been Soundwave's special _friend_ for over a month.

He's not an idiot. Or nearly as naïve anymore. Sam might still be new to everything, but he knows enough about bonds and how they work. Actually listened to Perceptor's explanation all that time ago. Had Aid sit down and explain all the rest. Repercussions. Consequences.

Knows that what he did – what _they_ did, what Bee allowed them to do – in a moment of absolute despair if not outright insanity is to blame for all of this. Sam's only excuse is that it was just after Soundwave, and he was lost and scared and so desperate for a connection. And Bee just let him have his way.

He knows that he is at least partially responsible. Knows that Bee is alright at the moment but that things might change in an instant. That their bond could twist again. And Bee won't come out so easily a second time. Definitely not on his own. It'll require something else entirely.

But Sam will come to that road when he has to. For the moment, he lets it just be. A wait and see approach. The bond isn't truly Bee's fault. Not his either, but that's beside the point. It just is. And Sam can live with that. He's accepted and moved on.

He might not want to be in the same room as Bee at the moment, but that's not because of the bond. A different thing altogether. They don't have to be outraged on his behalf. It's his problem to deal with. Nobody else's. Not Ratchet. Or Jazz. Or even Prowl and Optimus.

It is between him and Bee.

He's told them as much. Several times. But they can't seem to get the idea through their damn processors. More glitched than Red and his paranoia. Or Fireflight and his love of shiny things.

And finally, Sam has had enough.

Even his own audios ring as he leaves the rec room and strides down the corridor. Hound receives a baleful look when he tries to stop Sam from leaving and quickly moves out of the way. No one else even attempts to stop him. He just hurries outside and away from the base. Walking until he's long out of view and then keeps going. Not even certain where he is when he finally stops.

He just needs to be alone for a while. Away from the sad or angered or pitying stares. Far from the whispers and meaningless comfort. Away from the lies and the liars. Concealed by trees and bushes. Comm. channels blocked using a technique Blaster taught him.

He simply sits and tries not to think.

But as always, his time to himself is cut short. There is the sound of footsteps to his back, soft but faintly echoing in the quiet. Sam gives the Cybertronian equivalent of a sigh and slowly turns to look at the mech coming up behind him.

He jumps, face twisting into something a lot like horror. Green optics gleaming with fear as they meet another pair.

Not blue but rather red.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	19. Interpret

**_Interpret_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Hinted Violence, Slight Spoilers, Onesided Bee/Sam

* * *

Opportunity is a fickle thing. Coming only once or twice in a lifetime. It is not fate. Or whatever foolish force that dictates human life. Merely a series of random events that culminates in possibilities. Chance. Potential. All there for the taking. But only if he dares.

Or perhaps there is some credence to the belief. Primus must surely be smiling upon him.

After all, what are the odds that Soundwave would encounter the youngling, _this particular youngling_, alone and unguarded? Not once in a vorn but twice? And this time, miles from the base and with a self-induced block on his comm?

Soundwave can hardly believe his good fortune.

The last youngling. Sam Witwicky. Once a human but now all but one of his own kind. He was so close the last time to finding out how they had done it. On the edge of discovering just what the Autobots had done to the boy to make him as he currently is.

And if he could copy it…

Endless possibilities. Limitless. Not the end of their war. At least, not for his side. The potential, the opportunity to for things unimaginable. To create new Decepticons from the ignorant creatures littering this world. To resurrect Lord Megatron.

And Ravage. His beloved creation lost to that worthless, yellow mech.

Primus is once more on his side as he offlines the minibot without difficulty and spirits him away. He idly wonders how long it will take his enemies to notice that their youngling is missing. A matter of when over if.

But even then, it will do them little good. They will not find him. Only sheer dumb luck allowed them to do it in the first place. Only random chance. That the red twin and his equally violent brother would stray from the base in a fit of boredom at the same time a human spotted his creations in the wilderness. That the loathsome insect's call for help would be intercepted.

Potential and possibility. Odds astronomical.

Yet, everything is now in his favor. Soundwave has planned this moment for orns. For more than one revolution of this planet. Simply waiting for the right breem to strike.

The trip back to his secured location goes without interference, the youngling secreted inside him as snugly as one of his own. And soon, they are locked up tighter than a Decepticon fortress. Nothing going in and out. Not even them.

It is beyond easy for him to delve into his prisoner's processor sometime later. Seeing if Sam has learned anything of his transformation in the orns since they were last together. Soundwave strays through thoughts and memories, but they are wispy. Like smoke in his grip. Impossible to grasp and hold. Just as they were before.

Soundwave isn't certain why this is. The youngling's inherent nature perhaps. The happenstance behind his origins. The Allspark's influence. Or perhaps something taught to him by the Autobots.

It quickly becomes apparent that this will get him nowhere. Soundwave goes back to himself, optics flashing on. He merely stares down at the minibot before him dispassionately, features unreadable. However, the fear reflected back is so readily apparent. Twisting and burning and increasing exponentially with each astrosecond. Further growing as Soundwave reaches to a side table and pulls an instrument free.

And then, the youngling starts to scream.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	20. Interrupt

**_Interrupt_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Hinted Violence, Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: I apologize for the lateness. I was on vacation last week. And yes, we're getting rather close to the conclusion.

* * *

He's lived in a war. Lived through horrors beyond imagining. Friends, comrades dying. Leaking energon from every line. Heard them whimper in pain, beg to be saved, to have others saved. To not be left behind or alone.

Hound was there when Cybertron died. Saw the lights flicker and dim to nothingness one by one. In waves. Whole cities crumble and fall away. Witnessed the destruction of other worlds. Other species and peoples caught in the crossfire of their never ending conflict. Innocents who should have never even been there at all.

But that doesn't even come close to this, to now. Doesn't compare to the absolute shriek Bee lets loose just before he sinks to his knees, clutching his chassis. The sound grates on Hound's audios, on all their audios. Hollow and echoing. And altogether like nothing else he has ever heard. His own spark trembles and aches, just as he knows Aid's must as the other mech kneels down to check on Bee.

However, even after the scream ends, even after Bee offlines with a shudder, his spark still twinges. Not from sympathy this time but from guilt. The guilt of a mech who knows he could've done better, done something instead of just watch. Hound blames himself for this. He let the youngling go, saw him leave the base but didn't follow. Didn't want to intrude. A mistake that has already come back to haunt him and undoubtedly will for vorns to come.

He should've stopped Sam then, should've held the youngling back. He knows they coddle Sam and that he hates it. But he's just so young, doesn't completely understand what they've been through.

Or what he means to them. That he is more than a youngling. He's _their_ youngling. _Their_ little brother. _Their_ child.

And now, Sam's missing. Has been for over an Earth day, at least a few joors. And they have no clue where he's gone. A part of Hound desperately wishes that the youngling is just out, just trying to work off some of his frustration. Or possibly that he's returned to the other base. Gone to visit Prime or Bluestreak. Or even those pit-spawned twins.

But a sinking part of him already knows the truth. As young as Sam still is, he isn't this irresponsible. If he'd planned to leave the base, really leave the base, he would have told someone. Or contacted them by now. No matter how angry he gets at them, Sam would never want them to worry. Especially not after what happened with Soundwave.

And Bee's reaction only makes that trickle of dread grow into a rushing torrent. A scream not of anger or aggravation. But of fear. Of pain. Of a thousand nameless but terrible things being echoed through a bond.

Hound can see the same realization reflected in Aid's optics as he glances up. On the faces of those gathered around them. Wheeljack and Skyfire and Mirage. In the way Prowl's hands have clenched into fits. And how Jazz trembles beside him. In Blaster's voice when he finally whispers the horrifying truth they already know.

But in many ways, the deathly silence that follows is a million times worse.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	21. Intermittent

**_Intermittent_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: Required reading is such a pain in the aft.

* * *

The list of suspects is unsurprisingly short. There are only so many Decepticons left gallivanting around the galaxy. Besides, Soundwave has already taken Sam once. Bee's frenzied murmurings only cement his guilt.

First Aid isn't certain if he is more relieved or terrified by the prospect. On one hand, they know who they are dealing with. On the other, he has seen exactly what Soundwave can do. Exactly what he _will_ do. It might just take both Ratchet and him to put their youngling back together again.

But still, they have no clue where he has gone. No trace or trail to follow. Time ticking by as they scramble to figure out a solution.

Then, Wheeljack makes a suggestion, a chancy and completely insane suggestion. But Ratchet seconds it with a speed that'd be frightening under normal circumstances. Prowl agrees without thought to consequences, logic be damned.

And Bee… Bee just goes and goes relentlessly. All they have to do is follow. Try to stamp down on the absolute terror crawling inside. Attempt not to look disappointed when he leads them to a barren field in the middle of nowhere, seemingly just as stumped as they are.

The area around them is deserted. Desolate, if not for the unending grassy plains stretching out in all directions, not a tree or house or even a road in sight. Nor a base or anything even vaguely resembling a place for Soundwave and Sam to be.

Prowl and Ratchet exchange a look, and Aid can tell that they are thinking the same thing. Wondering where exactly Bee has taken them. If the minibot really has lost it completely. First Aid begins to believe along the same lines as the breems stretched on, Jazz supporting Bee as he goes still.

But that's only until Wheeljack trips and nearly falls over what appears to be open air.

The entrance is easy enough to find after that, hidden by the same means Mirage uses to conceal himself so effectively. It is all Jazz can do to hold Bee back, to keep him from charging in head first as they all peer down the sloping corridor that is revealed to them. Staring into the surprisingly bright if empty expanse. Walking through the echoing hallway with a sensation not unlike dread.

Something is wrong here. Something other than the obvious.

Soundwave has to know that they are here. Has to see them guardedly walking along. Has to sense them at the very least.

But no one has tried to stop them. They haven't even seen anyone besides themselves. Not Soundwave or his symbiotes. Not other Decepticons. Not even Sam. No one at all. Just a barren corridor. A hollow and lifeless place. A void. Absolutely nothing within.

The emptiness bothers Aid more than an entire battalion would.

Where is Soundwave? _Where is Sam?_

Just… nothingness. No sight. No sound. No feeling.

Some bots just have a presence about them, an aura. Megatron radiated authority. An all encompassing power that sent weaker mechs to their knees. And he was not the only one. Prime does as well, cleaner and gentler to be certain but just as strong. For Starscream, it's resentment and guile. Prowl, intelligence and loyalty. Alpha Trion, a saddened sort of wisdom, deep and aching.

Soundwave is different from them all. Muted. Calmer. More menacing for the complete lack of compassion. Of any sort of visible emotion at all. For the abyss that stares back whenever his optics are met. A horror given life.

That's all Aid can think about, locked on that thought as a trickle of foreboding shoots across his processor. As part of him pleads for even that, for any sign at all that they are on the right track. He pauses then, head tilted. Searching. Spark twisting inside him. Feeling a sudden whisper of air across his side… followed by a heavy weight crashing into him.

And the last thing he sees is a glimmer of deep blue metal before the world dissolves away.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	22. Interior

**_Interior_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: I am now officially a med student. Woot!!

* * *

Black. Just black as far as the eye or optic can see. All alone in the dark. Time a vague memory as Sam struggles to conquer his panic. He has no idea how long he's been here. None at all. Could be days. Maybe months. Or perhaps only minutes.

Just waiting. Trembling. Fighting against his restraints, though they're his one anchor to reality.

The only light is that of his own optics. Sole sounds the whirls and clicks of his own body and echoes of his screams. The faint smell of machinery lingers along with the scent of his captor, bitter and coppery.

Soundwave did this to him the last time. Would leave him completely alone for hours, days. Just lying in the pitch black, strapped to a table. Energon drying along his frame. Vocalizer aching from overuse.

But Sam refuses to break now just as he refused then. Refuses to acknowledge how close he came before. How he skirted along the edge of madness. How even now he likes to sleep… _recharge_ with the lights on. How Soundwave and his symbiotes did things to him that would leave even other 'Cons horrified. Things so terrible that he never told any of them, not even Bee or Smokescreen during their sessions.

Things of nightmares and pain and violation of the deepest and most heinous kind. The memories alone enough to make him purge his insides of his daily energon. Leave him shaking and twitching worse than Red Alert when his glitch acts up.

Mind whirling and racing. Breaking. Just as he is now.

But his thoughts come to a crashing halt as he hears a noise outside. It's followed by another similar sound. Footsteps. Just barely perceivable over the rushing and ringing in his head.

Sam panics, thrashes on the table. Certain that it's Soundwave come back for more. That _monster_ a thousand times worse than the dark. But his restraints hold fast, barely letting him move an inch. Not even allowing him to go farther despite the increasing effort he puts in.

More footsteps then. Louder and louder. And louder still.

Spark twisting inside of him. Fear. Terror. Despair.

Sam abruptly freezes as he hears them pause by the door, silence now deafening. Minutes pass by before it opens. And when it finally does, Sam is nearly blinded by the bright light pouring in. Staring out as his optics quickly adjust, pulling as far away as he can. Insides tensing and tensing and…

Jolting as he realizes who exactly is in front of him. Instantly going limp. Sam just feels the sudden urge to cry and cry and never stop. Lets out a hysterical wheeze of air instead, now and forever unable to weep. Idly wonders where Bee is but that thought flutters away as Prowl bends to free him, optics the bluest Sam has ever seen.

First Aid, in turn, seems somewhat disoriented, staggering slightly. And Sam can see the large dents along his left side as he kneels in close. However, his hands are exceedingly steady as they very lightly brush over Sam's face.

Jazz gives a smile, warm and relieved if not more than bit unreadable. Almost incomprehensible. Anger mixed with fear and a hundred other things. And it deepens as he takes in the not-so-faint cracks and scratches all along Sam's body, gouges deep enough to reveal the silvery inner workings.

His grin flashes predatory, but it's quickly covered up.

"Let's get you outta here, lil bro," Jazz puts in after a moment, voice soft, lacking the normal humor.

He helps Sam to his feet and then to the exit. Prowl in front. First Aid behind. Hands firm but gentle. Refusing to let go.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	23. Interest

**_Interest_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam, Some OOC

AN: Alright, folks. The end is in sight. And in case it isn't clear, they separated into two groups. One stayed with Soundwave. The other went to find Sam. Also, remember that Bee killed Ravage. This is very important.

* * *

Ratchet thought he had seen it all.

Battles. War. Death. Pain. Entire cities and planets reduced to ash.

But sometimes, the universe throws him a loop. Presents something so incomprehensible and impossible that even he is forced to take a step back and just gape. Stare in abject horror as the world shifts on its axis. As reality shatters and then rearranges. As his spark goes cold with dread.

Soundwave is like a mech gone mad. More frightening than Megatron at his very worst. A rabid animal back into a corner, the end in sight but refusing to let go. Struggling and slashing, clawing his way through them. Biting and kicking when needed and often when not.

Mind shrieking, broadcasting to everyone. Screams of vengeance and agony beyond measure. Aching emptiness where Ravage once was.

Ratchet can only shudder and do his best not to listen, not to feel. Only wonder how it could have gone so horribly wrong in so short a time. How it could go from Prowl and Jazz and First Aid rushing off like Unicron was on their heels… to _this_.

In the beginning, Soundwave was fine. Relatively speaking. Only his usual level of frightening. The fight against him lasted longer than Ratchet thought possible, but the 'Con was eventually subdued, Wheeljack watching over him as Ratchet quietly tended to a deep scratch on Mirage.

But then, something unexpected happened. Hound and Bee returned from scouting the area.

And the universe unraveled.

Bumblebee saw Soundwave. Soundwave saw Bumblebee. Time came to a stuttering halt as they stared at each other. Everyone else freezing at the tableau, gawking like a Dinobot at one of Annabelle Lennox's tea parties.

Then… then, red optics narrowed and alit with hatred. And all logic and reason flitted away. The knowledge that he was outnumbered and unarmed. That he and his symbiotes were damaged and defeated.

Soundwave roared.

Wheeljack is the first to go down, somehow managing to twist out of the way in the last instant, preventing severe damage or an untimely demise. It is all Ratchet can do to kneel next to him in the ever-expanding pool of energon, hands flying to seal the leaks. Soundwave still screaming in his processor.

Mirage is next, thrown out of the way without even a passing thought. There is a resounding thud as he connects with the wall. The dent left behind one of the biggest Ratchet has ever seen.

In the meantime, Blaster is beset by all of Soundwave's symbiotes, ripping and tearing. Madness filtering down from their creator. Even as his own rush to help him.

Just a few steps away, Hound shoots Soundwave at pointblank range, but the Decepticon isn't even fazed, too far gone to care about the energon seeping down his sides or the scorched sections of his armor. Hound gets a fist to the face for his efforts and an arm all but torn off before he is tossed at Mirage, who is fighting to stand. The two collide with the screech of metal against metal and land in a heap.

And then, Soundwave is on Bee.

The minibot is no match for him. Soundwave is nearly twice as tall, almost as large as Prime, and can take both twins on at once. And his insanity only seems to make him stronger. He all but tackles Bee in a move that would leave even Epps in awe, knee planted firmly on the Autobot's chassis. Clawing at his optics. Gouges deep and oozing. Roars growing louder.

Ratchet is struck by a moment of indecision, in the midst of stabilizing his best friend, before he sees Blaster rip Buzzsaw from of his shoulder and stumble to his feet. Less than an astrosecond later, he is by Soundwave, doing his utmost to pull him off. But the 'Con is on top of Bee, claws now dug deep into the smaller bot's sparkchamber. Blaster shoves as hard as he can, but it's still not enough. Not enough at all until a black and white blur all but throws himself into Soundwave's side. And the three… Blaster, Prowl, and Soundwave go down in a tangle of limbs.

However, Soundwave soon scrambles free. Only to be shot once, twice, a third time directly in the spark. Jazz just watches coldly as the Decepticon ceases all movement and finally lies still. And his symbiotes let out an unearthly shriek before joining their master in death.

Then, it goes quiet, deathly so. Broken only by the groans of the injured, a muttered curse from First Aid, and Sam's near-sobs.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	24. Interchange

**_Interchange_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam, Character Death

AN: I was only going to do the semi-tragic finale, but so many people asked for a happy one that I have decided to oblige you. Just give me a few days to post it.

* * *

He doesn't believe in miracles. That everything will magically work out. That the good guys will triumph and ride off into the glorious sunset. Happy endings are relative. Just a weighing of gain versus loss. Discovering who came out ahead.

And at the end of it all, Blaster regrets. Wishes that he couldn't done more. That he could've done better. That he _had_ done better. Perhaps even that it had been him.

Wishes on top of wishes. And so very many regrets.

Maybe what Blaster regrets most of all is that Sam had to see. That he had to watch his friend, his bonded brother, die in such a manner. Spark ripped from his chassis while everyone looked on helplessly. First Aid unable to save him no matter how hard he tried. Ratchet rushing to help, only to fail as well. Jazz furious and shouting. Prowl beyond words. Mirage and Hound and Wheeljack all frozen in shock. Blaster himself holding Sam lest he collapse.

They had rescued their youngling but lost something irreplaceable in the process.

One of their own. Bumblebee. A defeat in victory.

And unlike Jazz, nothing's left to save. No flicker of life at all. Just an empty shell. An empty shell and a thousand regrets. Could and would and should.

Impossible but desired beyond measure.

It is no surprise that Blaster finds Sam outside. The minibot's favorite place to think, to get away from the sorrow and sympathy. Only this time, he is well within range of the entrance and Mirage is watching from a discreet distance, a silent sentinel on the hilltop. But the other mech greets Blaster and studies him for a breem before disappearing back inside.

And Blaster just sits next to Sam, circuits twitching and reverberating. Processor on a loop, playing it over and over and over again. Soundwave on Bee and his own ineffective attempts to separate them. Guilt devouring him as surely as Unicron would. He's on the verge of saying it, of apologizing. Of begging and pleading for forgiveness. For wrongs unfathomable and not entirely his own.

But Sam holds up a hand, effectively quieting him. The youngling looks older in that instant, older and wiser. Aged before his time. And Blaster sees the same emotions reflected in those green optics. They say everything without him even needing to speak at all.

That Sam feels the same way. That he understands. But they hold other things as well, other knowledge Blaster himself lacks. That it isn't his fault or Sam's. That they shouldn't blame themselves. That things will get better, though Blaster is very skeptical about the last.

Guilt. Pain. Sorrow. Acceptance.

Blaster wonders when exactly Sam grew-up, as the humans say. When he became smarter than his elders. When he ceased to be a youngling.

Or perhaps he never was one. Maybe they just didn't see.

"I'm not alright, you know," Sam says then. "Not now. Perhaps not for a long time."

He tilts his head up to stare at the sunrise, seeming older and wiser with every passing astrosecond. But then, he turns to look at his companion, and Blaster is struck by what he sees, his own regret withering away.

"Not now," Sam repeats with a barely-there smile. "But one day, I will be."

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


	25. Intertwine

**_Intertwine_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Transformers_. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

**Warnings**: Onesided Bee/Sam

AN: And the alternate ending. I hope you enjoyed this story and that you stay tuned for the prequel, _In Loco Mortis_ (In Place of Death). I should start posting in October or November at the latest, and I'm open to suggestions for background pairings. The more unusual, the better.

* * *

Fate. Karma. Destiny. Primus.

Bee thinks that these words all mean the same thing. The perpetrator of an unexplainable good or bad occurrence. The invisible hand nudging everything along.

Happenstance. Chance.

Yes, even those. All synonyms for the feeling someone is out there both helping and taunting him. All of it a scripted play with actors who constantly forget their lines, if they ever knew them in the first place. And single and insignificant incidents weaving together into such a complex tapestry as life.

The Allspark ending up on this world, one of the few in this sector to support life, much less the sapient kind. Sam's ancestor finding it, Bumblebee himself on the retrieval team. The pair of them growing so close so quickly. Sam becoming one of them and Soundwave taking him for that very reason. Bee on the edge of death, so near that there was no turning back.

And yet… sometimes, the universe exhales and takes a different route. Primus changes his mind. Fate looks away. Destiny grants mercy. Or perhaps a random speck of dust tips the scales the other way. And what could have been, what had _almost_ been, now never would be.

Everything changes. Or maybe nothing at all. Perhaps something in between.

And he is left dazed and dazzled, pondering what it all means. Wondering where he stands with his friends. With his fellow Autobots. With Sam.

But those green optics are unfathomable, metallic face unreadable. Gazing at him with a thousand nameless things skimming over the surface.

"Where do we go from here, Sam?" Bee asks, stilling as he awaits an answer. Staring at the sunset like it has the answers to all the mysteries if of the universe. And maybe if he begged long enough, it would whisper every secret.

Where do they go?

Just one question when he wants to ask a hundred. Where are they going? When will they get there? What are they becoming?

He knows that Sam doesn't love him, at least not in the same way. Bee understands that now, comprehends it as he didn't before. Death, after all, has a way of putting things in perspective. Still, he can't help but hope. Wish with every single circuit and servo.

But he also cannot stop himself from wondering if it would've been better if he had died. If there weren't even the possibility of that terrible choice. He loves Sam, yes. But he doesn't want this out of pity or guilt. He doesn't want it forced either, for Sam to do it to save him. For Sam to even have an instant of regret or unhappiness. Bee didn't steal Sam's mortality only for him to spend the rest of eternity in slow agony.

He never wants Sam to resent him. To look back and wish things were different.

Bee would die before he'd ever allow that to happen.

"Where do we go?" he repeats then, more to himself than to his companion. Processor troubled and aching. "Where can we go?"

But there is a faint chuckle beside him, an amused and wonderful sound. The spark of life that kept him going through madness.

"Anywhere. Everywhere," Sam says and smiles softly as twilight descends. "Live. We'll just live."

-O.o.O-

_End of Transmission_

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


End file.
